A Tale of Damnation and Soap
by Ember-Firedrake88
Summary: After fighting off archangels, Cas is left without his angel powers. After a few days, Dean convinces him that he needs to shower. Cas has never taken a shower before, however, and he needs a little help... Warnings: slash, language, sexual situations


**Title:** A Tale of Damnation and Soap  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre and/or Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
**Spoilers:** Season 4, speculation for Season 5  
**Warnings:** Some language, whumpage, lots of UST, sexual situations, and masturbation  
**Word Count:** 2,047  
**Prompt:** From the "spnkink_meme" at livejournal prompt: _"This place really doesn't have enough softcore. D: So what I'd like is, Castiel is stuck with Dean and Sam, with very little of his angel mojo. He's a renegade/fugitive now. Needs to shower but really absolutely doesn't know how. Like, doesn't even have a clue what that bar of soap is for. So Dean gets into the shower with him, in his boxers, and starts washing him._

As awkward, subtle, schmoopy as possible. I'd really prefer this to be as canon as you can possibly make it. After all, the more real, the hotter. They're working on making Dean/Castiel canon asides. :3"  
**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own.

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It had only been a couple of days. Only a couple of days since Cas had shown up at their motel door, battered and exhausted from his fight with the archangel. His grace had been almost entirely torn from him, but there was enough remaining for him to sense where Dean was. Dean had stood back and quickly invited him inside, because that's what friends did.

Dean didn't have time to consider how warped his life had become, that he counted an angel among his friends. What mattered was Cas, and the lurch of fear his own stomach gave at seeing the angel—practically former angel now—in pain.

Dean and Sam had both helped Castiel to patch his wounds, which could no longer heal themselves. Cas spoke little, only telling them in the briefest terms possible that he had evaded the worst of his punishment, and that he wasn't endangering the Winchesters by seeking refuge with them. Heaven was now too otherwise occupied to deal with one grunt causing trouble. The haunted look on Castiel's face had halted any further questions.

It had only been a couple of days, but Dean had to break Castiel from his silent reverie. Sam had left the motel half an hour ago, shooting Dean a look that clearly said, "_You_ tell him, he's _your_ angel." The loss of the angel's powers had done far more than cut him off from Heaven…it had cut him off from Heavenly purification. The angel _smelled_, and the normal five o'clock shadow he sported had grown scruffy.

"Uh…look, Cas. I know you're all for the strong, silent thing right now, but you need to take a shower. You smell…and, uh, I don't think wiggling your nose or snapping your fingers is going to cut it this time."

Castiel blinked and looked at Dean, really looked at him for the first time in about 48 hours. He tilted his head a moment, as if Dean's words needed time to sink in. Finally, he shook his head as if to clear it, and responded.

"Certainly, Dean. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. I am…still becoming accustomed to this body's needs."

"Apology accepted, just go clean yourself up. And, no offense, but this whole 'being human' thing might be easier if you talked with us. Not about anything that's too painful, that is. Just…talking for the sake of interacting. It helps," Dean said, silently hoping he wasn't pushing Cas too far.

Castiel gave Dean a look that almost could have been a smile. The sadness seemed to lift from his eyes a moment, and there was the slightest of upturning in the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Dean," he said, before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Dean could hear the sound of the water running a few moments later. He flipped on the motel TV, wanting to banish the mental image of Castiel undressing from his mind. He should _not_ be having those sorts of feelings, especially not for someone who was so broken and vulnerable now since whatever had happened to him.

Barely two minutes had passed before he heard Castiel's voice coming from the bathroom.

"Dean!" He sounded slightly frantic.

Dean was there in seconds, all manner of scenarios passing through his head for why a former angel would sound that way. In the bathroom, Castiel was clutching a towel about his waist to maintain some modesty, while pointing accusingly at the faucet on the bathtub.

"That _thing_ must have been designed by a demon! The water was _freezing_, but when I tried turning the knob the other way, the water was hot enough to scald me!"

Castiel held out his hand as evidence of the faucet's demon properties, and Dean could see that his palm was pinker than normal from the overly hot water. Dean bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress his laughter at the nature of the emergency. He also couldn't fail to notice Castiel's towel slipping slightly from his hips, and he averted his eyes quickly.

"Hey, Cas, it's okay. Motel showers are usually shit anyway. And there are lots of different types of showers, so even us humans have trouble with them sometimes. The trick is adjusting the knob slowly. It's…kinda like breaking into a safe," Dean laughed at the analogy, knowing well that Castiel had never broken into a safe before.

Dean adjusted the faucet until the water pouring from it was comfortably warm, and then flipped the lever to redirect it to the showerhead. He turned back to Castiel, who was giving the offending faucet knob a scowl. Castiel looked back at Dean, his expression plaintive.

"Help me, Dean? I've never done this before and…I'm not sure of what to do…please?"

If Dean had felt uncomfortable before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. But the look on Castiel's face was so pleading and just a little pathetic, that Dean couldn't say no to him.

"Yeah," Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady, "Of course I can help you. Just, uh…get in the shower, and I'll be there in just a moment."

Dean turned around so that he wouldn't see Castiel dropping the towel. Once the former angel had stepped into the shower, Dean shot a glance at the mirror. His face was colored slightly by a flush in his cheeks (Dean Winchester didn't _blush_, goddammit). His heartbeat was pounding in his eardrums, and seemed to be going at three times its normal speed. He quickly shucked his clothes off, keeping his boxers, knowing if he waited any longer he would lose his nerve.

Dean stepped into the shower behind Castiel, who was standing with his shoulders hunched, as though the water was painful. Dean checked the temperature again—no, it was fine—Cas was just having trouble getting accustomed to the feel of water pouring down on him.

Cas pointed to something on the edge of the tub, "What is that?"

Dean laughed, seeing the bottle of Shea-scented body wash. "That's Sam's. You don't need that. This will do fine."

He handed the former angel a bar of soap. Castiel held the soap, staring at it as if he could glean its secrets with his gaze. Castiel brought the bar up to the side of his face, running it down his cheek, before the bar shot from his fingers and ricocheted on the sides of the tub.

"I'll get that," Dean said, stooping to pick up the soap, and ignoring Castiel's calves as water ran down them. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. He grabbed the washcloth hanging on the support bar.

"Here," Dean said, holding them both up for Castiel to see, "Washcloth, soap, lather."

As he spoke, he lathered soap suds into the washcloth. He moved the washcloth in a circular motion on Castiel's chest, keeping his eyes trained on the former angel's face, and not on where the soap suds were travelling.

"You get the idea. You do it now. Wash your neck, your chest, arms and legs. Make sure you get under your arms well, and, uh…between your legs. I'll wash your back when you get to it."

Castiel proceeded to follow Dean's instructions, and Dean desperately tried to look elsewhere, only glancing over to ensure that Cas was doing it properly. He couldn't help but admire Cas' body, lean with just the right amount of muscle definition. He was mentally kicking himself a moment later. That body _used_ to belong to Jimmy Novak, before Castiel's grace had been ripped from him, essentially forcing the man's soul out with it. _ImgoingtohellImgoingtohellImgoingtohell_ was repeating in Dean's mind.

"Is this sufficient?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, his voice sounding choked. He was very aware of the fact that his face was turning redder by the moment. Dean took the washcloth from Castiel and turned the former angel around to wash his back. At least then Cas wouldn't be able to see his face.

Dean washed Castiel's back in small, circular motions, starting at his neck and shoulders. Cas tensed when the washcloth reached his shoulder blades, and Dean immediately eased up the pressure there.

"Everything alright?" Dean asked, worry in his voice.

Castiel's breathing had grown heavy, and he turned his head so that he could glance back at Dean. His expression was pained.

"It's-…my wings," he gasped, "I can still feel…where they were torn from me."

Dean felt his chest constrict. He wanted to be able to take Castiel's pain away. Castiel, who raised him from hell, and who was the only person who truly believed in him during those months following. Castiel, who had sat by his bedside in the hospital. Castiel, who had gone against Zachariah and his superiors, all for Dean. Dean longed to close the distance between them and lay soft kisses to Cas' back, but he restrained himself. He couldn't help but feel that deep down, the former angel resented him for the pain he was now feeling. Or, at least, Cas _should_ resent him.

Dean finished washing Castiel's back, going as gently as he could over the shoulder blade area. Cas gritted his teeth, but didn't tell Dean to stop. When finished, he let go of the washcloth and picked up the shampoo bottle.

"This is shampoo for washing your hair. I'll do it for you this time, but pay attention so that you know how to use it. You put about this much-…" he demonstrated, "…into your hand, and then work it into your hair. Here, tilt your head back so no suds get in your eyes."

Cas did as he was told, and Dean began to run his fingers through the dark hair, quickly working up a rich lather. Dean bit his lip, and his cock gave an interested jerk in his soaking wet boxers. He had wanted to do this for so long, to have the angel close to him and trusting him completely. But this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't an angel any longer, at least not a full angel. And he was so vulnerable, Dean felt that to act on any of his feelings would be breaking the complete trust Cas now had in him.

Dean massaged Castiel's scalp with his fingers, pushing his inappropriate thoughts from his mind. It didn't help any when Cas gave a soft noise of contentedness. Dean bit down again on the inside of his cheek, hoping it would distract him enough to suppress his arousal.

"Now you rinse," Dean said, doing his best to keep his voice even, "Keep your head tilted back, and your eyes shut, until all the shampoo suds are out of your hair. Then make sure your body is fully rinsed."

Castiel nodded and stepped fully under the shower spray again. He did a fairly good job of rinsing himself off, though he did accidentally get soapy water in his mouth at one point. He sputtered in displeasure, and Dean couldn't help but smile.

"Is that all?" Castiel asked a couple of minutes later.

"Pretty much. Once you get out, dry yourself off with a towel."

"Would you help me shave as well?"

"Sure, Cas. Just…uh…give me a few minutes. I need to clean myself while I'm in here. You can wait in the main room until I finish, and then I can help you shave."

Castiel nodded his head, "Certainly, Dean. And thank you…you have been a great help to me."

Castiel left the shower to dry off and Dean hung his head. He wondered if the former angel would think so highly of him if he knew where Dean's thoughts were right now. He stared down at his erection straining through the soaked boxers. He waited until he heard Cas leave the bathroom, and then he pulled off the boxers and began stroking himself. He shuddered, though whether it was from the physical sensations, or loathing at his own weakness, he couldn't tell. He pumped his fist rapidly, seeking release, and suspecting that he was sealing his own damnation in the process.

He came with a strangled gasp of Cas' name, and wondered as an afterthought if the angel-turned-man could ever return the feelings he held.

fin.


End file.
